The dress was beautiful. It had been woven from the most spotless, snow-white silk, so that it almost seemed to blend into Princess Rarity's alabaster coat. Her shoulders were delightfully framed by a sash of royal blue chiffon, supposedly meant to evoke the image of a waterfall in a snowy mountain. The charming image was enhanced by hundreds, perhaps even thousands of tiny sapphires adorning the dress. They had been set into every seam and curve of the fabric, tiny rivers that almost seemed to draw a map on her dress. With every movement, the princess sparkled from an entirely new angle.
It really was a very beautiful dress. The maids who helped her put it on had made no secret of their admiration, and had only made a token effort to conceal their jealousy. Had it been any other dress, on any other day, Princess Rarity would have smiled at them, and made coy remarks about their own dresses and their own objects of affection. This time, there were no such quips, no compliments, and no dramatic pauses before remembering their names. She just stood there, and let them do their work.
It was not until the maids bid her sit down and they busied themselves with her hair that Rarity really began to notice them. Dresses were something she slipped in and out of on a regular basis, but her hair was one of the few things that she could claim belonged to Rarity, and not to the princess. Feeling her signature coiffure being swept back and adorned with all manner of gaudy ceremonial hairpins made shivers run up her spine.
"Your Highness, what should I do with this?"
Rarity's eyes focused on the maid standing in front of her, then shifted to her hand. She was holding the ribbon.
"You put it back. Right now."
"But, Your Highness, it isn't part of the ensemb—"
"You put it back." The princess clenched her hand into a fist, and deliberately ran a thumb over her signet ring. "Right. Now."
The color of the ribbon was lavender. From most angles, that was all it was, just a single strip of a single color. But if one really looked closely, there was a design, woven into the ribbon with a slightly lighter shade of lavender. It was a six-pointed star, a family crest that was more commonly seen in the military than the throne room. Except, of course, in the case of the one who had given her the ribbon.
The maid was terrified, that much was plain to see. Her eyes kept flicking between the ribbon, the princess, and the ring. Then, mercifully, one of the other maids took the ribbon and brought it past Rarity's ear and back into her hair.
"We can incorporate this into the traditional style quite easily, Your Highness. I do sincerely apologize for Strawberry's incompetence."
"Curb yourself, darling. Incompetence is far too ugly a word for one simple mistake." Though Rarity's position meant she couldn't move her head, she was able to offer a reassuring smile to the still-trembling maid. "After all, so much of this is learned by rote. You should see the chancellor's face when a recent law is invoked that he wasn't prepared for."
There was a unanimous chuckle, the sort of artificial laughter that only terrified people could manage. As she joined in, Princess Rarity took a few deep breaths, and tried to relax. She had been trying not to think about the ribbon, and she had nearly succeeded in not thinking about the mare whose mark was upon it. She should have known it wasn't to last.
It wasn't to last. That much could be said about the whole damned affair, the more she thought about it.
The struggle to avoid thinking about her heartache was more than enough to make Rarity lose track of time, and before she knew it the maids were finished their work and filing out of her chambers. They were leaving her alone in her opulence, waiting for the moment when a guard would come and escort her to the chapel, where she was to be married.
Married. She was getting married today. The dream of every little filly was finally hers for the taking. It was a royal wedding, too, the kind of spectacle that most would count themselves lucky to witness twice in one lifetime. The splendor was hers, the celebration was hers, and the power was hers as well. Today, with the simple uttering of two words, she would bridge the gap between two kingdoms and usher in an unprecedented era of peace and prosperity. By all accounts, today was the greatest day of her life.
Were it not for the makeup, she would have been weeping.
All too soon, there came a knock at the door. Rarity took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching her fists. Endless hours of self-defense classes flashed before her eyes, and not for the first time, she wondered about making a run for it. She wondered about what might happen if, for once in her life, she dared to try. With her fists still clenched, she rose from her seat and swept majestically towards the door. She took hold of the latch with her magic, and put on a brave smile as the door swung inward.
Then, her smile fell. Her hands fell slack at her sides, and the brief flicker of fire that had stirred in her heart guttered and died. "Beloved," she whispered.
Twilight Sparkle stood before the princess, her usual expression of militant coldness cracking at the corners. If it were at all possible, she looked even more dashing today, of all days; the heavy-plated armor emblazoned with the king's family crest lent an extra weight to her presence, and the black cape that hung from her shoulders seemed to absorb even the slightest glimmer of light from the hall behind her. Twilight's jagged, battle-scarred face was creased with a frown, and Rarity was surprised to feel a finger press against her lips.
Surprised, but by no means offended.
"Rarity." Twilight brushed a hand through the princess's hair, settling on an all-too-familiar braid. "You really shouldn't have."
She didn't say it softly. There was an edge to her words, a rebuke. Rarity frowned.
"And why shouldn't I? It's just a little personal affectation. Perfectly harmless."
"Perfectly harmless?" Twilight's eyes narrowed. "That's what you call wearing the mark of your secret lover to your own wedding?"
"Can you actually see the mark?" Rarity challenged. "From where you're standing, can you actually tell there's even anything printed on this ribbon?" Twilight opened her mouth to respond, but Rarity didn't stop. "No, you can't! Because that was the whole point! You and I are the only two people in this whole kingdom who know what this ribbon means! It's a secret, just for you and me, just like..."
The rest of the rant died on the tip of her tongue. Twilight was crying. Twilight Sparkle, the Sovereign's Shield, the Star of Vigilance, was crying in front of her. She wasn't holding back, either. The tears were streaming down her face, and Rarity felt her own welling up in response.
"Just like... everything... else... between us..." Rarity blinked, and then blinked again in surprise. There were droplets of water hanging in the air in front of her, shimmering with Twilight's aura. As another droplet floated upwards into her vision, she looked up at Twilight. The question went unspoken, but the bodyguard put on a brave attempt at a smile and reached out to cup Rarity's cheek with her hand.
"Can't have you ruining all of that pretty makeup, can we?" Twilight's voice was trembling, but her magic and her body remained rock solid. Rarity looked down at her own shaking hands and blinked against the rising tide of tears, and wished she could be so strong.
"I can't do this," she whispered. "I can't marry him."
Twilight sighed, and Rarity felt her heart buckle. Usually, she heard her mare sigh when she got distracted from her fencing lessons, or when she interrupted one of her bodyguard's lectures about personal safety with some tangent. Then, there was always a playful edge to it, as though Twilight were secretly glad for the distraction. Now, though, all such levity was gone. Her attempt at a smile became a hard line, and her hands— those big, strong hands —came to rest on Rarity's shoulders.
"You can." For a moment, the mare's old strength came back to her, and the fire sparked in Rarity's breast again. She took a step closer to her lover, and the fire flared as Twilight's arms slowly encircled her and pulled her closer. She rested a cheek on the guard's armored chest, and managed a genuine smile.
"What if it weren't a secret?" Rarity asked. "What if we told them that I love you, and I don't want to marry some headstrong yak?"
Twilight's grip tightened, and Rarity was pressed tightly against her lover. "Then it would be war."
"You could stop them," Rarity countered, her words speeding up as though she were trying to outrun the truth. "If any mare could stop a war by herself, you could. Or maybe, maybe the strength of our love could inspire them to seek peace without needing my hand in marriage, maybe I could make a speech, maybe..."
"Please, Rarity. No more."
Twilight's voice was quiet, and there was what felt like a twinge of fear in her words. It was such a far cry from her normal clipped, confident speech that Rarity shivered nervously.
"I don't want to leave you," Rarity mumbled. "I... I love you, Twilight Sparkle."
She had wanted to say those words for five years. Even with all the meaningful looks and held hands, there was nothing that could match finally saying it, confirming that it was more than just a long game of flirting for her. It felt like the happiest moment of her entire life.
"I love you too, Rarity Belle."
Rarity pulled back, just enough to look up and meet Twilight eye to eye. This time, there were no fluttering eyelashes, no puckered lips. It was just them. "Kiss me."
For the first and last time, Twilight Sparkle took Princess Rarity's face in her hands and pulled her charge into a deeply passionate kiss. And for a handful of moments, all was right in the world.
All too soon, they parted. Twilight wiped the smear of lipstick off of herself, and adjusted Rarity's own makeup to cover her tracks. Her dopey, love-struck smile lasted for just a moment longer before it went away, and she was back to being the Princess's Bodyguard, and nothing else.
"We've wasted enough time, Your Highness. We need to get going."
Reluctantly, Rarity nodded and let Twilight take her arm in her own and lead her down the hall to the chapel.
Well, they called it a chapel. It was more of a cathedral, really.
Princess Rarity could not help but shiver as she began to walk down the aisle, still tightly anchored to Twilight. The great stained-glass windows had been thrown open, and were lined with pegasi, perching on the edge like great armored pigeons. The pews were lined with nobility of both Equestria and Yakyakistan, and great wooden stands had been erected for the peasantry. Though they could hardly fit the whole two kingdoms in one room, they had done their best.
At the end of the aisle, Rarity's father waited. Had she been a commoner, he would have been the one walking her down the aisle, but a royal wedding could only ever be conducted by another royal. And so, here she was with Twilight Sparkle. In forty paces, her true love would give her away to politics. Thirty paces now.
Rarity had long considered how a theoretical wedding might go. She had imagined smiling and waving to the lords and ladies and peasants alike, filling the room with an exuberant happiness that left all present with the certainty that this was the happiest day of her life. And she had imagined her partner, the resplendently armored Twilight Sparkle, turning and smiling at her from the altar.
The reality, though the air crackled with the same aura of celebration, was far more somber. She did not smile and wave at the assembly, but instead put on a brave face and stared straight ahead. The one who turned to smile expectantly at her advance was a mountain of a male, nearly concealed beneath yards of coarse yet colorful fabric and an unruly mop of a mane. Prince Rutherford towered over everypony, standing a good head taller than even Twilight herself. The only thing about him that wasn't frightening was his simple, child-like smile.
Twenty paces.
He was not a bad match, Rarity mused. Sweet, simple, even gentle by the unique standards of his culture. She couldn't honestly say she'd regretted any of the time spent trying to make small talk with him at various functions, and there were even times when he'd been pleasant to be around. But right now, none of that mattered. All she could think about was that he was taking her away from Twilight.
Ten paces. Eight. Five. Three. One.
She watched Twilight and Rutherford exchange glances. For the briefest moment, she noticed the faint glimmer of Twilight's magic on his outstretched hand, and she could just about hear a tiny grunt. "Understood," was all he said, and then Twilight nodded. She took Rarity's hand in her own, and the princess watched as she was passed between them. It was a very simple gesture, but as her history tutor was so fond of pointing out, it was such gestures that determined the future.
With that done, Twilight stepped back. Her new position was only a few feet away, but it may as well have been a thousand miles. Rarity swallowed the lump in her throat, and turned to face her father.
She listened with only half an ear to his speech. She moved in time with the rites, and crooned along to the hymn. But for the most part, she stood still and tried to quiet her thumping heart. Desperate for any semblance of safety, she tightened her grip on Rutherford's massive hand. There was the slightest hint of a rumbling from him, and she turned to mutter an apology to the yak prince. The words, though, would not come.
There was something new about him. More than just the gaudy robes that counted for yak wedding regalia, there was an unexpected addition to the yak's ensemble. A lavender ribbon, wound so tightly around one of his dreadlocks that it was nearly invisible. But once she saw it, she also saw just how it was positioned. It had been woven to form a narrow, six-pointed star around his lock of hair.
Rutherford gave his head a little toss, just enough that his hair parted and she could see his sparkling golden eyes. He winked, and suddenly his smile did not seem so naive. It looked devilish, and scheming.
"Princess Rarity Belle of Equestria, do you take Prince Rutherford of Yakyakistan as your husband, through all of sorrow and joy, through pain and pleasure, until death do you part?"
Rarity stole a final glance at Twilight Sparkle. The bodyguard had dried her tears, and was smiling. She had the same smile as the yak prince, and her horn was glowing.
Rarity turned to her father, and made her choice.
